Salt Creek Fight

W. C. "Uncle Billy" Kutch at the monument on the site of
the Salt Creek Indian battle. This site is between Jean and Olney and about one mile north of the
highway.

Marker Title: Lemley Cemetery Address: Cold Springs Rd. off Old Authon Rd. via FM 920 City: Lemley Year Marker Erected: 1992 Marker Location: From Weatherford, take FM 920 6.6 miles northwest,
then 1 mile west on Old Authon Road, turn south onto Cold Springs
Road, about 1 mile to cemetery. Marker Text: The earliest marked grave in this cemetery, that
of Elizabeth Moore, dates to 1857. She was buried on part of a 160-acre
tract of land settled by the Thomas B. Martin family in 1853 and patented
to Martin by the State of Texas six years later. The existence of
the cemetery is reflected in the Parker County deed records as early
as 1869, when Martin sold his property to John H. and Thomas J. Lemley.
The Lemleys came to Texas from Illinois in the mid-1850s and eventually
settled in Parker County. The cemetery on their property, which came
to be named for them, was used over the years for members of the family,
as well as for friends and nearby settlers. Tombstones mark the graves
of landowners Thomas Martin and George Lemley, as well
as others who lived and died in the area, many of whom were victims
of the hardships of pioneer life on the Texas frontier. At least five
veterans of the Civil War also are buried here. Many graves are marked
only with native rocks. The historic Lemley Cemetery is thus an important
reflection of the heritage of this part of Parker County. (1992)

The following story is W. C. Kutch's first-hand acount
of the Salt Creek Fight taken from the book, History of Jack County,
by Thomas F. Horton.

The local ranches were gathering cattle northwest
of Cottonwood Springs when the Indians attacked.

We spied a good-sized bunch a good way off and Shapp
Carter and I started to the bunch. When we were just about ready
to make the run we heard Henry Harrison call-we knew it meant the
Indians had run into them. We looked back to the herd which was
just about a mile from us, the Indians had rounded up the boys,
the herd and the loose cattle and were just holding them there.
Carter said to me, What does that mean no fighting going on.
I said to him, I am just waiting to see which way to go.
We were in one-half mile of the timber and one mile from them. I
said, We can get away without any trouble. He said,
What sort of a tale will we tell when we get home? Nobody
was hurt down there yet. I knew he was gritty, I had tried him before.
I said to him, Now, Shapp, we can start to them, down there,
there are boys there that you were raised with, among them, and
it looks bad to go off, we can start and when we do some of them
will commence coming to meet us. You throw your six-shooter to the
left and I will throw mine to the right, but dont you open
the fire. They met us over half way, run around us, about
thirty yards from us and got in behind us but did not shoot. They
carried us from there down to where the other boys were with the
herd-we run right in to where the boys were. Lemly called out, Rush
on to the timber right to our west I said, No, not one
of us will ever make it, right on the bald prairie, and fifty-seven
Indians around us.

About three hundred yards there was a right smart
of a thicket on the side next to us, on the opposite was a bluff.
I said, Make for that place, turn everything loose. That was the last resort. Some Indians were standing there who understood
everything we said and they made a run and beat us to the place.
When they got possession of that place they opened fire on us. We
had got into a little basin of a place. I told the boys to dismount
and turn everything loose that we would never need the horses any
more. All turned them loose, except a negro who was with us, his
horse was killed in a few minutes.

The fight continued from ten oclock in the morning
till four oclock in the evening. Will Crow was killed at the
commencement of the fight, George Lemly was wounded twice, John
Lemly was wounded twice, Rube Segress was wounded twice, Shapp Carter
was wounded twice, Jim Gray was wounded twice, I was wounded three
times, Jesse McClain was wounded once; Henry Harrison, Joe Woody
and the negro, Dick, were not wounded.

They traveled all night in the rain and got
to us about eight oclock the next morning. They loaded the
seven wounded men in the wagon and tied the dead man, Crow, on the
back of the wagon. There was where our real trouble set in-no roads,
the land was full of little ditches, rocks, bunches of grass, the
spikes were cutting and grinding all the time.

We reached the ranch about twelve oclock.
They untied the dead man from the back of the wagon and moved him
back under the wagon. I told them to get John Lemley out as quickly
as possible for he was dying. Lemley was dead when they got him
out. This was the old picket house with a dirt floor. Harmison and
all his men gave up all of their bedding and they made pallets all
around in the house to put the wounded down. I was the last one
to come into the house and there was only a corn sack for my pallet.
This man, Whitten, had pulled spikes out of Bill Peveler. I asked
him if he had any pinchers about the place. He did not. He finally
remarked, Ive got a pair of Colts navy six-shooter molds.
I said, Get them. I told Whitten to take the molds and
pull the spikes from me. He said he could not do it. I told him
I knew better-I said, You are the man who pulled the spikes
out of Ben Peveler that the Indians shot into him. He said,
Yes, but I have no tools to work with. I told him, Youve
got all the tools right here that are necessary. He wanted
me to wait till the doctors got there, I told him it might be night
before they got there and as a matter of course they will work on
the ones suffering worst, first. He finally consented to undertake
it, he put a man to each foot and each hand and A. C. Tackett to
hold my head. He cut a hole in the flesh to the bone where the arrow
went in and after hard pulling he got it out. The boys gave him
some handkerchiefs and he bound it up the best he could. I was lying
flat on the ground and an arrow had struck me in the top of the
shoulder and ran down and lodged in the bottom of my shoulder blade.
He cut a hole in my shoulder and ran the bullet molds down there
and pulled it out. The third arrow they shot into me went about
half the length of an arrow into my leg. I got that one out myself.
The doctors came about sundown. They worked on the wounded until
next morning. That day was the second after the fight. They got
an ambulance and a wagon or two and were fixing to take us all home.
We got to Flat Top Springs, three miles north of where Graham now
is and stopped for a while. Shapp Carter died there. His father
had come to us and they took him on down home that evening. They
carried us down to the old salt works, where Graham now is, after
so long a time. The balance of us got up and were ready to go. We
left part of the wounded there and left one doctor with them. Only
three were able to travel and able to be carried on home from there.

During this battle we had lost two hundred cattle,
thirty-one head of horses, the pack mule, all our bedding, our provisions,
and our ammunition was just about out when the fight ended.

The Famous Salt Creek Fight/Second Story

The following story is from the book, The West
Texas Frontier, by Joseph Carroll McConnell.

After spending the night on Flint Creek, north of
the old Murphy Station, a group of cowmen, who were on a roundup,
waded their horses knee-deep through the luxurious wild flowers,
found so abundantly in northern Young County, and started to their
herd, approximately two miles away. It was Monday, May 16, 1869.
For several days, fresh Indian signs had been discovered. So these
cowmen realized that the approximately five hundred head of cattle,
already gathered, would attract the attention of the savages for
many miles. Consequently the Texans camped about two miles distant
from the bawling herd, to avoid, if possible, a night conflict
with the barbarous hordes of the plains.

After the herd had been drifted for about four miles,
several cattle were seen grazing in the distance. So C. L. (Shap)
Carter and W. C. Kutch were detailed to bring them in. Kutch and
Carter galloped away. They had hardly gone two miles, however,
when the two heard the shrill voices of many shouting demons behind
them. The peaceful prairies, which only a few moments before,
were waving with millions of wild flowers, seemed to have suddenly
transformed into a sea of raging red men. Carter and Kutch could
have easily escaped into the timber, but realizing the plight
of their companions, these faithful frontiersmen dashed almost
through approximately fifty-seven painted Indians, to reach their
associates, who were also rapidly riding to join Kutch and Carter.
The cowboys, only armed with cap and ball six-shooters, rushed
toward a little ravine; but when within a few yards, discovered
that it was already occupied by a large band of Indians. They
were then compelled to retreat, and assume a location in a little
depression to the right. This depression drained into one of the
prongs of Salt Creek. Their position, then, was about five miles
southeast of the present city of Olney, in Young County. Jason
McClain and J. W. Gray were already seriously wounded, and since
the little wash-out was so shallow, the dozen cowmen were forced
to lie down. It was now about ten o'clock in the morning, and
again and again the Indians' onslaughts were repulsed by the cowmen.
Wm. Crow was instantly killed during the early stages of the battle,
when a rifle ball penetrated his head; George Lemley seriously
wounded in the face, and before the fight was over, every man
received a painful wound, excepting Henry Harrison and Joe Woody.
But still the twelve citizens realized their dangerous predicament,
and waged one of the most bloody and dangerous battles ever fought
on the West Texas frontier. With one man dead, and nine others
seriously and mortally wounded, their very existence was suspended
by rotten twine. Each savage charge and onslaught came sweeping
like a death dealing tide and threatened to completely destroy
the Texans so poorly armed.

While the battle was most intense, the citizens
discovered ammunition was growing low. So the besieged cowboys
began to feel their last hopes were gone. But it was agreed the
wounded would load the guns while others did the shooting. When
the horses were shot down, their dead bodies afforded the frontiersmen
additional breastworks. After the Indians realized the citizens
were not being dislodged, they tried new tactics, which seemed
to be in accord with the command of the main chief, not in the
fight, but stationed on a nearby hill. The Indians attempted to
slip up the branch below, but when they did, five or six of their
number fell wounded.

The savages were under the immediate command of
a Negro, who seemed to inspire the Indians to fight far more desperately.
Finally, however, about five o'clock in the evening, the chief
summoned his warriors by his side, and to his place of eminence
on a nearby hill. It seems the savages were holding a council
of war preparatory to make a final drive. But just at this moment,
perhaps, the cowboys were saved by their own perseverance, and
strategy of Capt. Ira Graves, who ordered every cowboy, regardless
of whether well or wounded, to stand up and wave defiance at the
wild demons. Most every one, excepting Wm. Crow, stood up, and
this bit of strategy, no doubt, caused the Indians to think that
after fighting for six or seven hours, and after losing several
of their own number, the citizens had scarcely been harmed. And
too, during the last part of the fighting, Capt. Ira Graves and
his men had been shooting at the Indian leaders, and this apparently
caused considerable consternation in the savage ranks. So the
Indians discharged a final volley or two, and then drove the cattle
away.

When the Indians retreated, Wm. Crow had been dead
for several hours, C. L. (Shap) Carter had a severe arrow wound
in his body, and had been also painfully injured with a rifle
ball. John Lemley was mortally wounded in the abdomen with an
arrow; J. W. Gray had been twice struck with rifle balls, once
in the body and one in the leg; W. C. Kutch had two arrow heads
in his knee, and one in his shoulder; Jason McClain had been twice
wounded with arrows; Rube Secris had his mouth badly torn, and
his knee shattered; Geo. Lemley had his face badly torn, and an
arrow wound in his arm; and Ira Graves and Negro Dick were also
wounded. Henry Harrison was dispatched to the Harmison Ranch,
several miles away for aid. John Lemley died from the effects
of his wound sometime in the evening following the battle.

During the dreadful night that followed, the citizens
stood guard and waited on the wounded as best they could. The
next morning, their souls were inspired when they saw a wagon
approaching in the distance. And according to reports, A. C. Tackett,
Bob Whitten, and Theodore Miller, assisted in moving the cowboys,
and removing some of the spikes from their bodies. Messengers
were also dispatched for Dr. Getzwelder, of old Black Springs
in Palo Pinto County, and Dr. Gunn, the U. S. Army surgeon, at
Fort Richardson. But it was nearly twenty-four hours after the
fight was over, before these surgeons arrived. C. L. (Shap) Carter
died the next day after the fight, and his death made the third
victim of this battle. About two years later, Jason McClain, who
helped move a large herd of cattle over the trail, died in Kansas,
and his death was attributed to the wounds received in this battle,
which numbered among the most desperate, dangerous, and bloody
engagements ever fought on the west Texas frontier.

Further Ref: History of Young Co., by Judge
P. A. Martin, as published in the Graham paper, and W. C. Kutch's
own account of this fight, as published in the Star-Telegram
and Graham paper. Clippings from these papers were furnished by
J. B. Terrell, but we are unable to supply the dates.

Indians Attack the Warren Train

The following story is from the book, The West
Texas Frontier, by Joseph Carroll McConnell.

May 18, 1871, the next day after General Sherman,
Gen. Marcy, and their escorts passed over the road between Fort
Belknap and Fort Richardson, and two years and two days after
the famous Salt Creek Fight, a wagon train, loaded with corn,
and belonging to Capt. Henry Warren, who was a contractor at Ft.
Griffin, was attacked by Chief Satanta, Satauk, (Satank), Big
Tree, and perhaps other chiefs in command of about 100 warriors,
not a great distance from Flat Top Mountain, about half-way between
Fort Richardson and Fort Belknap, and on the identical road over
which Gen. Sherman, Gen. Marcy and others passed during the preceding
day. The train, when attacked, was under the command of Nathan
S. Long, wagon-master. Many warriors were armed with the most
modern rifles, known at that time. The teamsters were as helpless
as children, Nathan Long, John Mullins, J. S. and Samuel Elliot,
B. J. Baxter, Jesse Bowman, and James Williams, were killed. Thomas
Brazeale was seriously wounded, but escaped, and R. A. Day, and
Charles Brady, escaped unharmed. Samuel Elliott was burned to
death. The savages chained him to the wheel of a wagon so he could
not move, and then built a fire around his feet. It was difficult
for Gen. Sherman, Gen. Mary and others to believe that the Indians
had committed such crimes. After making a personal investigation,
Col. McKenzie reported to Gen. Sherman that the report was true,
as related. Thomas Brazeale, the wounded man, also found his way
to Jacksboro, and related how the savage tigers from the reservation
near Ft. Sill sprang upon the defenseless teamsters, killed seven
of their number, one of whom was burned to death, and carried
away about forty mules, as well as such other things that seemed
to suit their fancy.

This example of savage butchery has often been referred
to as the Monument Fight, for after it happened, Capt. Henry Warren
erected a nicely painted wooden monument where the tragedy occurred.
We are told that this monument decayed and disappeared many years
ago.

William Tecumseh Sherman, General of the Army, traveled
north on an inspection tour of the forts. He was accompanied by
Inspector General Randolph B. Marcy, who had been retained by United
States government twenty years prior for several explorations, including,
blazing a southern route to Santa Fe, locating the head waters of
the Brazos and the -Red Rivers and, with Major Neighbors, establishing
suitable locations for the Indian Reservations. Sherman and Marcy
were accompanied by two staff members and only fifteen calvary men.

Mackenzie dispatched his Adjutant, R. G. Carter, and
a detachment to intercept and escort the General and his party.
This precaution was prudent, considering the 80 plus miles the party
traveled between Ft. Griffin and Ft. Richardson, at its midpoint,
crossed the Salt Creek Prairie, considered one of the most dangerous
places on the entire United States frontier. These were the closest
settlements to the Indian Territory (United States Indian Policy
did not allow pursuit of the Indians onto the Reservations) so they
were not only most convenient targets of short raids-, but also
the first and last targets of opportunity for longer raids.

Sherman gracefully declined Carter's assistance indicating
an air of nonchalance which suited his political philosophy about
the degree of danger presented by Indians. When Marcy pointed out
to Sherman that the area was dramatically less inhabited than it
was when he had passed through there twenty years prior, Sherman
pointed out the houses were spaced far apart and did not indicate
serious concern on the part of the builders for Indian defense.

Sherman believed a large portion of the raiders to
be ex-Confederate renegades, and he had written to General J. J.
Reynolds, commander of the department of Texas:

"I have seen not a trace of an Indian thus
far, and only hear stories of people which indicate that what
ever Indians there be, only come to Texas to steal horses... and
the people within a hundred miles of the frontier ought to take
precautions such as all people do against all sort of thieves...
but up to this point the people manifest no fears or apprehensions,
for they expose women and children singly on the road and in cabins
far off from others as though they were in Illinois."

Sherman's party crossed Salt Creek unaware that they
were being watched by a Kiowa raiding party of one hundred fifty
warriors, led by Chiefs Satank and Satanta, accompanied by the mysterious
medicine man, Maman-ti. Upon their ascension to the top of the hill,
Maman-ti consulted with his owl, a symbol of death to the Kiowa.
They feared even to look at an owl, which was fortunate for Maman-ti
because his was only an owl skin with button eyes; he could blow
air into the owl skin causing the wings to flap. He told the braves
the owl warned against attacking the first target they saw, but
glory would be theirs if they waited for the second. Luckily for
Sherman, they saw his party first. Sometime later, traveling in
the opposite direction towards Ft. Griffin, the Warren wagon train
and its teamsters were the unfortunate ones.

Satanta (White Bear) blew his trumpet signaling the
attack. As they charged, the drivers attempted to circle their wagons.
Addo-etta (Big Tree) and Yellow Wolf cut off the lead mules, scoring
the first two coup. The teamsters opened fire, wounding --Red War
Bonnet, a Kiowa, and killing Or-dlee, a Comanche. Big Tree shot
one of the drivers out of his seat. Light-Haired-Young-Man, a Kiowa-Apache,
was knocked off his horse and carried from the fight.

The warriors circled the train, their fire killing
three more drivers and wounding a fourth. The remaining seven bolted
through a gap in the -circling Indians and sprinted -toward the
timber around Cox Mountain. Two more died as they ran and a third
was injured. The Indians didn't pursue them into the timber, returning
to their primary interest, the booty in the wagons. They continued
circling the train, unsure of the number of defenders still remaining.
An inexperienced young Kiowa, named Hautau (Gun Short), charged
a wagon. As he touched the canvas to claim it, Samuel Elliott, lying
wounded inside the wagon, shot him in the face. Elliott was overtaken
and chained, face down, to a wagon tongue and roasted over a slow
fire.

At this time in Ft. Richardson, Sherman was receiving
local citizens who related their individual accounts of the Indian
atrocities they had encountered. The settlers recounted hundreds
of deaths, and kidnappings in the depredations which had occurred
over the last decade. Sherman was polite but unmoved, and spent
the evening at a reception in his honor attended by the officers
and their wives. Later that night he was awakened from his sleep
and informed of the fate of the wagon train on the road he had just
crossed. Now visibly moved, he ordered Mackenzie to take a detachment
to investigate the report, and if true, to pursue the raiders even
to the Reservation.

Mackenzie departed with four cavalry companies consisting
of over two hundred men, and headed west along the Butterfield Road
in a heavy rain storm. Confirming the report, Mackenzie searched
to the north for over 20 days with no success. On June 4th, the
detachment arrived at Ft. Sill to find the leaders of the raid in
chains and Sherman already departed, continuing his inspection tour
into Missouri.

A Quaker Indian agent, Lauwrie Tatum and Colonel Grierson,
commander of Ft. Sill, greeted General Sherman upon his arrival
at the fort on May 23. When informed about the wagon train massacre
at Salt Creek, Tatum stated that Satanta's tribe was reported off
the reservation and he would make inquiries, several days later
when Indians picked up their rations. When asked, Satanta, in a
proud statement, had not only condemned himself, but also Big Tree,
Satank and Eagle Heart as accomplices.

When given the information, Sherman, lacking authority
to make arrest on the reservation, asked Tatum to call the chiefs
to a meeting on the porch of Colonel Grierson's home at the Fort
Sill. A large number of chiefs gathered and Satanta again confirmed
that it was he that had led the raid, and if anyone said different,
they would be a liar. Sherman stated that Satanta, Satank, Big Tree
and Eagle Heart were under arrest and would be sent to Texas to
stand trial for murder, and that the Kiowa tribe would be responsible
for returning the mules stolen in the raid.

Satanta then changed his story, saying he only went
along to blow his bugle (signaling commands to his warriors and
confusing the commands given by the army) and observe the young
men learning to be warriors. Kicking Bird offered to produce a large
number of mules in retribution, but pleaded that they not arrest
the chiefs.

Then the shutters around the porch banged open and
dozens of previously concealed soldiers brought their rifles to
bear on the gathered Indians who had weapons concealed beneath their
blankets. In the next few seconds, one warrior was killed and Eagle
Heart escaped. The remaining three suspects chiefs were arrested
and put in irons and confined awaiting their deportation to Texas.

On the morning of June 8th, Mackenzie and his troops
left Ft. Sill, escorting the wagon containing the three manacled
chiefs on their way to stand trial in Jacksboro. Satank told a Caddo
scout "Tell my people I died beside the road. My bones will
be found there. Tell my people to gather them up and carry them
away." The old chief then covered his head with a blanket and
began his death song.

Over the next mile he had chewed enough of his hand
off to escape a manacle. With a concealed knife, he stabbed one
of the guards in the wagon and grabbed a rifle but before he could
fire, Corporal John B. Charlton killed him. The soldiers left his
body by the road approximately where he predicted he would be, and
proceeded to Jacksboro with the surviving two chiefs.

The trial was a nationwide media event, as it was
the first time raiding Indians had been made to stand trial for
their deeds in the community where they committed their crimes.
Newspapers across the country carried headlines stating that twelve
Jacksboro jurors had found them guilty of murder and that Judge
Charles Soward sentenced them to be hanged.

Governor Edmund J. Davis was ultimately pressured
to overturn the sentence. He was swayed by two sound arguments,
first that the Kiowa would be easier to control if there existed
a possibility of the Chiefs being returned, and second that Indians
feared confinement more than death. Thus, on August 2, 1871, he
commuted their sentences to life imprisonment.

The chiefs were sent to the Huntsville State Penitentiary
and paroled in 1873. They immediately violated their parole by leading
new raids into Texas and both were eventually rearrested. Satanta
died of a fall from an upper story window while in prison. Big Tree
was eventually released and helped establish and became a deacon
in a Baptist church in Oklahoma.

Mrs. Barbara Belding-Gibson points our in her book,
Painted Pole, that the freeing of Satanta and Big Tree was a successful
ploy by Lone Wolf to get them released. He represented himself to
the U. S. as premier chief of the Kiowa and one who could speak
for the Comanche. He insisted he would have to confer with Big Tree
and Satanta before he could go to D. C. and make a treaty. The Indians
were transported to St. Louis to meet with Lone Wolf then returned
to Huntsville while he went to Washington. There he declared he
couldn't control his young warriors without the aid of Big Tree
and Satanta. If they weren't going to be released, he promised there
would be open warfare. The United States representatives agreed
without authority and then pressured Governor Davis to release the
Indians.

An Indian's Account of the Warren Wagon Train Massacre

Unaware of the advent of General Sherman the Indians
also were planning brilliant affairs-though of a somewhat different
nature. At their camp on the North Fork of Red River, near the
present site of Granite, they were sitting around the council
fire passing the war pipe from one brave to another. Kiowas, Kiowa-Apaches,
and Comanches were invited to participate in a great raid against
the Tehannas. A hundred chiefs and lesser warriors accepted the
pipe.

At this point a sinister figure emerges from the
obscurity of the past. It is Do-ha-te (Medicine Man), the Owl
Prophet. This Kiowa war chief and medicine man was one of the
strongest personalities the tribe produced. Though scarcely known
to the whites, he was the secret instigator and directing spirit
of nearly every major raid made by the Kiowas in the early seventies.
Known vaguely to the authorities under his real name, Maman-ti
(Touching-the-Sky, or Sky-Walker), this dread personality is scarcely
mentioned in written history. But today ask any old Kiowa who
was the leader of the great raid in 1871, when the wagon-teamsters
were killed, and the answer is, invariably, "Do-ha-te!"

If you know your history you ask, "but wasn't
Satanta the leader on that raid?"

Again the reply: "Oh, Satanta. Yes, he was
there. He took a leading part. But Do-ha-te was the leader."

Maman-ti was not sinister to his own people. They
saw him as a person of authority and wisdom-tall, straight, kindly,
and generous. Through superior intellect he could influence the
tribe, and pretend to foretell events by occult mens; he was relied
upon to bring to a successful conclusion any warlike effort.

About the middle of May, while Sherman was riding
along the Butterfield Trail, skeptical of Indian peril, this great
war party led by Maman-ti rode south toward the Texas Settlements.
The Indians crossed Red River between the sites of Vernon and
Electra. Here at a place they call Skunk Headquarters, on account
of the prevalence of skunks in the vicinity, they cached their
saddles, blankets, and other unnecessary impedimenta. The spare
horses also were left here, hobbled to prevent their straying
away. A few young boys remained to guard the headquarters; the
main body pushed rapidly toward the inhabited districts. Since
they hoped to bring back many horses and mules, some of the men
were without mounts. They rode double, or ran along holding to
the tails of other animals. Extra bridles and lariats were taken
along for the stock they expected to steal.

On May 17 the Indians entered Young County and headed
for the Butterfield Trail, about halfway between Forts Belknap
and Richardson. This was a favorite place. Sooner or later some
white man would be sure to ride along the road, and the locality
was remote from any town or military post.

After dark Maman-ti consulted his oracle. He sat
apart on the side of a hill while the rest of the warriors crouched
in silence listening for the voice of a dead ancestor. Soon it
came in the cry of a hoot owl: "Hoom-hoom, hoom-hoom,"-several
times repeated. The soft rustle of wings was heard. Then all way
quiet. The medicine mad stood up, raised his arms, and, slowing
intoning, interpreted the message of the owl.

"Tomorrow two parties of Tehannas will pass
this way. The first will be a small party. Perhaps we could overcome
it easily. Many of you will be eager to do so. But it must not
be attacked. The medicine forbids. Later in the day another party
will come. This one may be attacked. The attack will be successful."

At daybreak the Indians took position on a conical
sandstone hill which commanded a long stretch of the stage road
from where it crossed the head of the north branch of Flint Creek
to a point some three miles east thereof, where it disappeared
around the end of Cox Mountain. Between this hill and Cox Mountain
was a broad open plain, sometimes called Salt Creek Prairie (though
Salt Creek lies eight miles to the west). This field was at that
time sparsely dotted with mesquite, with a few trees lining Flint
Creek at the foot of the hill, and a heavier growth of scrub oak
near Cox Mountain, where the timbered area begins. It was an ideal
place for an ambush. The leader planned to allow the enemy to
reach the middle of the plain, far from the shelter of the woods,
then sweep down upon them from the hill.

Toward noon some of the scouts, who were peering
through the brush on the north shoulders of the hill, saw a vehicle,
preceded by a small group of mounted men, trot smartly through
the trees near Flint Creek and head east across the plain. At
once there was a great deal of excited whispering. The enemy were
too far away to determine how strong they were. Some of the young
braves wanted to attack. But the medicine man obstinately refused
to permit it. Perhaps through experience or native cunning he
was aware that white soldiers traveled with advance parties thrown
out in front. Or maybe he had genuine faith in his powers as a
prophet. At any rate the Indians allowed General Sherman (for
it was Sherman's party they saw) to ride safely past, all blissfully
unaware that a hundred pairs of savage eyes observed his passage.

Two or three hours passed. No other quarry appeared.
Some of the young men became impatient. They had come for action,
and were not getting it. They wanted to leave the band and set
out for themselves. But Maman-ti held them there. Finally, toward
mid-afternoon, a wagon train was seen approaching from the east.
The Indians watched eagerly as ten lumbering, white-topped vehicles
crawled around the north end of Cox Mountain and moved across
the open plain toward them. With heels raised to prod their ponies
they waited for the signal to charge.

Maman-ti waited until the wagons were in the center
of the plain. Then he motioned to Satanta, who sat with a bugle
in his hand. Satanta raised the instrument to give the signal.
But even as it touched his lips the Indians were away at a mad
gallop.

Down the slope they swept. It was a race to see
who should win first coup. Second, third, and fourth coups counted
also. To kill an enemy counted much. But to touch him first meant
more. Several coups made a man a chief. A fast horse was a tremendous
advantage. So was reckless daring.

Yellow Wolf had both. He was in the lead, closely
followed by the renowned young chief, Big Tree. The rest of the
horde thundered in the rear. The warriors were strung well out,
with the old plugs and dismounted men toiling in the dust far
behind. As the Indians emerged from the mesquite along the dry
watercourse of Flint Creek the white men saw them coming. Hastily
they turned off the road and began to corral their wagons.

The Indians commenced yipping shrilly and shooting
off their guns at every jump. They were upon the wagon train before
the corral was finished. Yellow Wolf rode between the last wagon
and the others, cutting it off. The teamsters were on the ground,
snatching at rifles carried in the leather boots fastened to the
wagon bodies. Big Tree made a first coup. Yellow Wolf made second.
Two Kiowa-Apaches were close after. Then as Yellow Wolf wheeled
to the west again the firing commenced. Indians and whites were
running here and there in the dust and smoke. Yellow Wolf saw
a man jump off his horse and come running forward to engage in
a hand-to-hand fight with the teamsters. It was Or-dlee, A Comanche.
Suddenly, he dropped, shot dead. Red Warbonnet, a Kiowa chief,
was wounded in the thigh. The whites were shooting "dangerously." Suddenly the Indians became wary. They pulled off and commenced
whirling round and round the wagons in a yelling, shooting, pinwheel
of color. Scarlet-and-white war bonnets mingled with cotton-like
puffs of white smoke, yellow dust, and navy-blue loin cloths.
Overhead black storm clouds were gathering across the sky. They
held up the sun, whose divergent fingers reached down through
gaps to touch as with a golden spotlight the fury below. It shone
from polished bow, lance and carbine. It fell unheeded on desperate,
frightened white men.

Three or four teamsters were killed in the first
rush. The Indians did not know how many more there might be. As
they rushed around and round the wagons they saw others kneeling
on the grass firing from under the wagons, through the wheels.
As Yellow Wolf made his second circle he saw Tson-to-goodle (Light-haired
Young Man), a Kiowa-Apache, wounded in the knee. The Apache slipped
from his horse and bounced in the dust. Two companions dragged
him away. Several hundred yards to the west stood two women, Yo-koi-te,
and another whose name is forgotten, lustily participating in
the fight with shrill "tongue-rattling." Satanta may
have been blowing signals on his bugle. Yellow Wolf doesn't remember.
But, he says, even if the bugle had blown, no one would have paid
any attention to it.

Yellow Wolf, galloping around to the east, saw a
little group of white men cut out of the corral on foot and start
to run towards Cox Mountain. There happened to be an opening in
the savage circle on the east; they broke through it. One was
shot down after running a little way. Six more kept going. Only
a few Indians pursued. They thought there were plenty more whites
still in the corral. Near the timber one other white was killed.
The remaining five disappeared in the blackjacks. The Indians
turned back; they were afraid they would lose their share of the
plunder. The Indians continued to circle, watching closely. No
firing was coming from the corral. Maybe it was some kind of trap.
Yellow saw one of the whites, the one who had been with the last
wagon, lying in the open gap between that wagon and the corral.
This was the one Big Tree had killed. The one Eagle Heart killed
was lying close to the corral on the north side. Yellow Wolf also
saw a dead man on the ground just inside the corral. Did he kill
this man? Yellow Wolf does not say. In the excitement he did not
see any other bodies. The Indians were using Spencer carbines,
breech-loading rifles, pistols, and bows. Most of the firearms
had been purchased from Caddo George, at his "store" near Anadarko. Yellow Wolf had a gun he had captured that year
from a settler in Texas.

The sky was growing darker. A big storm was coming.
The Indians were anxious to finish the work and get away. But
no one dared approach the wagons too soon. Some of the whites
might be waiting for them.

Hau-tau (Gun-shot) would not listen. It was his
first battle, his first chance to win a point in the race for
chieftainship. He ran toward the wagons. No enemy appeared. He
retired a few steps in indecision. White Horse and Set-maunte,
more experienced, tried to hold him back. He evaded their grasp.
He rushed to another wagon, touched it.

"I claim this wagon, and all in it, as mine!" he shouted in exultation.

At that moment a wounded teamster inside the wagon
lifted up the canvas sheet and shot Hau-tau full in the face.
The young Kiowa fell to the ground, horribly wounded. White Horse
and Set-maunte were laying their hands on the mules to claim them.
They ran to pick up Hau-tau. He was still breathing. They dragged
him out of the way. At this point the Indian account breaks off
abruptly. Yellow Wolf declines to say more except that the Indians,
enraged by the shooting of Hau-tau, proceeded to "tear up
everything." After the affair was over the Indians went back
to the hill from which they had started their charge, driving
with them the captured mules. The placed Or-dlee, the dead Comanche,
in a crevice on the south side of the hill, and piled rocks over
him. Then they tied the wounded men to horses and rode north.
Soon a general storm broke. The heavy rainfall turned the streams
into floods. The Indians made slow progress.

No white man survived to describe the last tragic
moments of the massacre. What occurred must be pieced together
from the descriptions of the scene written by Mackenzie and his
officers. The advance detachment of soldiers arrived before dark
on May 19. The rain was still coming down in torrents. The bodies
of the teamsters, swollen and bloated beyond recognition, were
lying in several inches of water. The place was a litter of opened
grain sacks, broken wagons, pieces of harness, arrows, and bits
of cloth. Mackenzie's surgeon made the following report of what
he found:

Colonel R. S. Mackenzie,

"4th Cav

"Sir:

I have the honor to report that in compliance
with your instructions I examined on May 19, 1871, the bodies
of five citizens killed near Salt Creek by Indians on the previous
day. All the bodies were riddled with bullets, covered with
gashes, and the skulls crushed, evidently with an axe found
bloody on the place; some of the bodies exhibited also signs
of having been stabbed with arrows. One of the bodies was even
more mutilated than the others, it having been found fastened
with a chain to the pole of a wagon lying over a fire with the
face to the ground, the tongue being cut out. Owing to the charred
condition of the soft parts it was impossible to determine whether
the man was burned before or after his death. The scalps of
all but one were taken.

"I have the honor to be, colonel, your obedient
servant,

(signed) "J. H. Patzki, "Asst Surgeon,
U.S.A."

Mackenzie had the corpses placed in one of the wagon
bodies and buried near the road. The soldiers set up two small
stones over the grave, cut with seven marks to indicate the number
of bodies. The grave may still be seen, a mile west of Monument
School, in the field owned by Mr. James Barnett.

The floods hampered Mackenzie in his pursuit of
the Indians. Furthermore he was twenty-four hours' march behind
them, and the trail had been obliterated by the rain. On the twentieth
Mackenzie was on the south bank of the Little Wichita, waiting
for the water to subside. The Indians were farther north, crossing
the Big Wichita. They made crude boats from willow branches covered
with canvas. In these they placed their guns, plunder, and wounded
men. They propelled the craft across the swift river by swimming
on either side and pushing.

Quitan and Tomasi, Mexican-captive members of the
Kiowa tribe, were great buffalo hunters. Together with two other
Kiowas they lingered behind the main body to kill some buffalo,
which then were running in from the west and swimming the river.
They had slaughtered twelve or more, and were engaged in cutting
them up when they were surprised by twenty-five men of the Fourth
Cavalry under Lieutenant Peter M. Boehm. Boehm was returning to
Fort Richardson after a thirty-day scout. In the sharp exchange
of shots which followed, one trooper and two horses of Lieutenant
Boehm's detachment were wounded. Tomasi and his horse were killed.
The other Indians sprang on their ponies, mingled with the buffalo
herd, and swam the river. When the main body of Indians heard
the shots and saw the fugitives flying toward them they raced
away. Quitan brought up the rear. The ground was soft and muddy.
When the Indians stopped to catch their breath Quitan arrived,
covered with mud thrown up by the flying hoofs. They gave him
a big laugh and went on their way north. Boehm's men scalped Tomasi.
They took the scalp to Fort Richardson, where Boehm presented
it as a souvenir to the regimental adjutant, Lieutenant Carter.

Although the Kiowa raiders were burdened with the
wounded Hau-tau, they moved rapidly across Red River and regained
their village safely. A few days later Hau-tau died. "The
screw worms got into his head," they explain. The death of
Hau-tau brought the Indian fatalities to a total of three: Or-dlee,
Tomasi, and Hau-tau. But the Indians were more than satisfied.
They had killed seven whites, captured forty-one mules, and brought
back much other plunder. They felt full of pride and importance.

Lone Wolf's Revenge Raid

The following story is from the book, The Men Who
Wear the Star, by Charles M. Robinson, III. Over the last decade,
this young historian has authored engaging and informative works
dealing with this region's history including Bad Hand, Satanta
and The Men Who Wear The Star. It is because of the exceptional
readability of his piece covering this famous fight that it is offered
here.

Jones, with an escort of about twenty-five men,
arrived at the headquarters of Capt. G. W. Stevens's Company B,
at the old Ranger post of Fort Murrah, on June 10. The following
day he ordered the entire company to move about ten miles east
to Salt Creek, where the grass and water were better. There they
received word that a band of Comanches had attacked and killed
a cowboy named Heath at Oliver Loving's corral, and tracks were
plainly visible.

The next morning Jones sent a scouting detail consisting
of two men from his own escort along with two from Stevens's company
under the command of Lt. Tom Wilson. They reported a large trail
heading southeast, out toward the dangerous Salt Creek Prairie.
Jones broke camp immediately, taking Stevens, Wilson, and thirty-three
members of the battalion to follow the trail. The group also probably
included several volunteers drawn from Loving's cowboys. Unknown
to the Rangers, however, this was not the trail of the Comanches
who had hit Loving's corral-it belonged to a much larger party
of about fifty Kiowas, including some of that nation's greatest
warriors. It was a murder raid, organized by Paramount Chief Lone
Wolf to avenge the deaths of his favorite son and nephew, both
killed the year before in a fight with federal cavalry in south
Texas. The party was led by Maman-ti, the wily and gifted medicine
man responsible for the most successful Kiowa raids. Before leaving
the Indian Territory, Maman-ti had consulted his oracles and predicted
a successful expedition in which at least one white would die
without any losses to the Kiowas. None of the warriors had any
reason to doubt him.

The Salt Creek Prairie, isolated but well traveled,
had always been good raiding ground for the Kiowas. Almost as
soon as they came out onto the prairie, they jumped four cowboys,
but the cowboys, mounted on fresh horses, escaped; the Kiowa ponies,
exhausted by the long trip from Oklahoma, were unable to keep
up. The failure to take the cowboys, along with the incredible,
windswept loneliness of the prairie, discouraged some of the younger
warriors. Sitting on a hill overlooking the valley, they began
muttering among themselves, and Lone Wolf gave them a dressing-down.

"Don't be scared," he commanded. "If
any Texans come and chase us, don't be afraid. Be brave. Let's
try and kill some of them. That's what we came here for."

At that moment, one warrior spotted the glint of
the sun on metal off in the distance, a sign more whites were
coming. Maman-ti led them along the ridge where they could get
a better view and saw a large party of well-armed men, all wearing
white hats.

The Rangers had already followed the trail some
fifteen miles. Now it was very fresh, and they estimated at least
fifty warriors. They found where the Indians had stopped to water
their horses, and where they had killed and roasted some cattle.
They rode past the rough monument that soldiers had erected over
the mass grave of the teamsters massacred during Sherman's 1871
visit, and but lost the trail as it led into rough and rocky ground
approaching the hill. Some of the younger, more inexperienced
men rode ahead to find it again.

As the Rangers continued into Lost Valley, expecting
to see the Indians ahead on the open plain, the Kiowas backtracked,
crossing the Ranger trail and circling around above them, keeping
under the cover of the hills. Maman-ti had worked out a trap.
He concealed most of the Kiowas in a gorge in the hills, then
he and another warrior rode down into the valley and dismounted
to lead their horses where they would be in plain view. Spotting
them, Jones led his men straight into the snare as the other warriors
charged out from among the boulders and mesquite thickets. The
major held his men together as the Indians circled. Ranger Lee
Corn received a gunshot wound that broke his shoulder and nearly
took off his arm. Separated from the rest, he managed to crawl
into the brush and hide. Another Ranger named Wheeler stayed with
him and helped bandage the arm. Most of the Rangers were caught
in the open, and Stevens told Jones, "Major, we will have
to get to cover somewhere or all be killed."

Jones ordered a charge that broke through the Indian
line, and the Rangers managed to get into a thicket in a gully
but were cut off from water. Several had lost their horses in
the charge, and Ranger George Moore had a flesh wound in the lower
leg. William "Billy" Glass was shot down and left for
dead. The Indians, Jones noted, "are all well armed with
improved breech loading guns (they used no arrows in the fight)
all well mounted, and painted, and deck [sic] out in gay and fantastic
style." There was no question in his mind that they were
out for blood.

The two sides began sniping at each other, with
Billy Glass lying out on the plain between them. Terrified of
what would happen if he was captured alive, he called out, "Don't
let them get me. Won't some of you fellows help?" The Rangers
responded with a heavy covering fire while three men dashed out
and brought him in.

The Indians were making trouble along a ridge to
the rear, and Rangers William Lewis and Walter Robertson volunteered
to hold that position while the others held the front. Jones took
them to find the best spot, and as they settled down he told them,
"Boys, stay here until they get you or until the fight is
over."

Later, during a lull in the shooting, Lieutenant
Wilson went to see how they were doing. He was sitting under a
tree fanning himself with his hat and describing the Kiowas in
the strongest Anglo-Saxon terms when Lewis said, "Lieutenant
you ought not to swear like that. Don't you know that you might
be killed at any minute?"

"That is just so, boys," Wilson agreed
and became quiet. A few minutes later, a Kiowa bullet cut a limb
overhead, bringing it down on the lieutenant's bare head. As the
blood poured down, he momentarily thought he had been shot. A
later examination of the tree showed it had been shot to pieces
on the side facing the Indians.

The Kiowas, meanwhile, were settling down for a
siege. In a murder raid, the purpose was enemy scalps with no
losses to their own side, and they were taking no unnecessary
chances. The day was hot and the Rangers were about a mile from
the nearest water. The Indians decided to wait them out. None
of their own had been hurt. The wounded whites were calling for
water, but Jones had forbidden anyone to try to reach the creek.
Finally, as the sun began to go down and the firing slacked, Ranger
Mel Porter said, "I'm going for water, if I get killed."

"And I'm with you," David Bailey replied.

They mounted and dashed for the creek. The others
could see Bailey sitting on his horse by the bank keeping lookout
while Porter filled the canteens. Suddenly, about twenty-five
Indians moved in on them. The Rangers in the gully tried to signal
by firing their guns, and Bailey shouted for Porter to flee. The
two men took off in different directions.

Porter was caught by two warriors near the water
hole. Keeping his nerve, he fired at them until his pistol was
empty, then threw it at one of the warriors. Using his lance,
the warrior levered Porter off his horse, but before he could
kill him, firing from the injured Lee Corn and Wheeler drove off
the two Indians. They were content to take Porter's horse, while
the Ranger dove into the creek and swam underwater until he came
up by Corn and Wheeler. They stayed together until after dark,
when they made their way to Loving's ranch. Bailey was cut off,
surrounded, and levered off his horse with a lance. Lone Wolf
himself chopped his head to pieces with his brass hatchet-pipe,
then disemboweled him.

The Kiowas were satisfied. They had killed at least
one Ranger (actually two, because Billy Glass had died), and they
began to leave. The badly mauled Rangers tied Glass's body to
a horse and rode back to Loving's ranch. The Kiowas did not admit
to any losses, although Jones claimed at least three had been
killed. Glass was buried at Loving's ranch. About 3 A.M. the next
day, they returned to Lost Valley under cover of darkness and
recovered Bailey's horribly mutilated body. At sunup, a detachment
of cavalry arrived from Fort Richardson, and the Rangers and soldiers
spent the rest of the day looking for the Indian trail before
the Rangers returned to camp.

Continuing his inspection tour after the Lost Valley
fight, Jones came to Camp Eureka on the Big Wichita River, where
he found Capt. E. F. Ikard's Company C "too far out to render
the most effect service" and ordered it into closer proximity
to Stevens, so the two companies could come together in an emergency.
Meanwhile, scouting parties from both Ikard's and Stevens's companies
were in the field, keeping pressure on the Indians, and a party
from Company C had actually raided a camp and captured forty-three
horses and mules, some of which were claimed by citizens from
whom they had been stolen.

The following illuminating observations of the 1874
Rangers from Robinson's, The Men Who Wear the Star, demonstrates
his typically wonderful research.

Heavily armed Rangers of Capt. Dan Roberts's Company
(Photo from the book, The Men Who Wear The Star, by Charles M. Robinson,
III)

Wife of Captain Dan Roberts recalls Ranger camp near
Menard:

The Rangers required only a few days to prepare quarters for us.
About fifty yards from their camp stood a portion of a camp house.
It had a shingle roof and a rock floor. It was converted into
a kitchen, size twenty feet by twenty feet. Gunny sacks were tacked
upon the walls. For our bedroom the Rangers built a room of logs
with walls three feet high, on top of which they put a tent. It
was provided with a fireplace built of stone. The floor was carpeted
with gunny sacks. The kitchen also served as a storeroom. It was
all so cozy.

These Rangers were tolerable Indian fighters, but most of their
time was occupied in terrorizing the citizens and "taking
in the town." Shooting scrapes and rows between citizens,
soldiers and Rangers in this year (1874) were so frequent that
the long suffering citizens by their votes "incorporated."

Jones reports frontier conditions, 1874:

Besides scouting for Indians, the battalion has rendered
much service to the frontier people by breaking up bands of outlaws
and desperadoes who had established themselves in these thirty
settled Counties [patrolled by the Rangers], where they could
depredate upon the property of good citizens, secure from arrest
by the ordinary process of law, and by arresting and turning over
to the proper civil authorities many cattle and horse thieves,
and other fugitives from justice

Although the force is too small and the appropriation
insufficient to give anything like adequate protection to so large
a territory, the people seem to think we have rendered valuable
service to them, and there is a degree of security felt in the
frontier counties, that has not been exhibited [or] experienced
for years before.

The following story is from the book, The West
Texas Frontier, by Joseph Carroll McConnell.

After the preceding engagement at the Adobe Walls,
the bloodthirsty warriors broke into several bands. One group
went into New Mexico and raided in that section. Another went
north. Still another group took a southern course. And Lone Wolf
with approximately one hundred and fifty favorite warriors came
to Jack County to pilfer, plunder and prey upon the people. The
results of his extended foray, no doubt, would have been most
disastrous and resulted in the death of many frontiersmen had
he not accidentally encountered Major John B. Johnes and his rangers,
who more than satisfied the Indian's thirst for war.

Lone Wolf and his warriors made their first appearance
when they charged James C. Loving, W. C. Hunt, I. G. Newcomb,
and Shad Damron, then riding the range on Salt Creek Prairie,
about three miles southwest of the present town of Jermyn, and
not a great distance from the line of Jack and Young County. Loving
and his men, instead of running toward the ranch, as the Indians,
no doubt, expected, dashed to the west, and succeeded in reaching
the roughs. In a short time, the savages were circling for the
citizens trail, no unlike, and as industriously as trained dogs,
trying to locate the tracks of a lost deer. No doubt, the Indians
would have found them, but about this time they had other problems
to solve.

Major John B. Jones, of the Frontier Battalion,
just happened to be in the vicinity, for he was making a tour
of inspection of his frontier troops, stationed from the Rio Grande
to Red River. The Major was visiting the camp of Capt. Geo. Stephens.
Lt. Tom Wilson, of Palo Pinto County, W. W. Lewis, who now lives
in Menard, Walter Robinson, of Uvalde County, and others, were
apart of Major Jno. B. Jones' escort. When these rangers, about
thirty-five in number, received word the savages were on a raid,
Maj. Jones ordered a detachment of about six scouts to ascertain,
if possible, the movements and whereabouts of the Indians, thought
to number about twelve. W. W. Lewis and Walter Robinson were among
these scouts. When they reported in a short time, the rangers
were on the warrior's trail, and finally overtook them just before
noon, in the Lost Valley country, not a great distance from the
present town of Jermyn.

Only a small detachment of the Indians were encountered
at first. These Indians, no doubt, were attempting to decoy the
Texans into a trap. At first a running fight followed, but in
a short time, when the Indians were reinforced by Lone Wolf and
his main band of warriors, Major John B. Jones ordered his men
to retreat into a ravine, and to protect their horses as much
as possible. About this time, the major also told his men they
had come to fight Indians, and not run horses. Some of the ponies
were sheltered in a ravine, and others tied in a cluster of pecan
timber. Major Jones divided his men into two divisions so they
could strike the Indians from different angles. In a short time,
the rangers were completely surrounded, and as usual, Lone Wolf
and his 150 warriors fought mostly from their steeds. For about
four or five hours, the fight was stubbornly fought. During the
most intense fighting an Indian's gun hit a tree above Lt. Tom
Wilson, and when limbs and bark fell, Mr. Wilson, father of U.
S. District Judge, James C. Wilson, Horace Wilson, and Mrs. Dr.
J. H. McCracken, replied, "Now, by golly! I'm shot!"
But he soon discovered his mistake and enjoyed the joke with others.

During the fighting, Billy Glass was mortally wounded,
and lay on the ground, a short distance from the ravine where
his companions were entrenched. At first, the rangers thought
he was dead, but when Billy moved, Zack Waddel ran through the
shower of bullets and carried Billy Glass, his wounded companion,
into the entrenchment. Later on in the evening, when Billy Glass
was calling for water, Dan Bailey and Porter, mounted some fast
steeds, and dashed to a nearby creek. But since Porter was narrow-sighted,
several Indians were upon them before their presence was known.
Porter successfully reached the main command, but Dan Bailey was
killed.

During the day, Lee Corn was also wounded by an
Indian spy. The Indians succeeded in killing about eighteen horses,
but several of their own steeds were shot down. It is not known
just what were the Indians' casualties, but a large number were
wounded.

A runner was sent to Jacksboro for relief, but when
the soldiers arrived the next day, the Indians had been gone for
several hours. For as usual, they withdrew late in the evening.
After the Indians were gone, the rangers carried their dead and
wounded to J. C. Loving's Ranch.

Note: Author personally interviewed: W. W. Lewis,
mentioned above; Oliver Loving, a son of James C. Loving; E. W.
McCracken; and several others, who lived in Jack County and elsewhere
at the time.

Further Ref.: Tex. Ind. Fighters, A. J. Sowell.

Walter M. Robinson, a surviving participant of the
fight, provided details of the action from the Rangers point
of view.

The Lost Valley in Jack County provided
the scene for the battle on July 12, 1874, between the Texas Rangers,
thirty-five in number, commanded by Major John B. Jones and Captain
Stephens, and 200 Comanche and Kiowa Indians, led by Chief Lone
Wolf. The battle waged on for five hours. On the day before
the battle Major Jones, who commanded all of the rangers on the
frontier, and who traveled from post to post arrived at the camp
of Captain Stephens, in command of a ranger force stationed in
Jack County, located northwest from Jacksboro about fifty or sixty
miles. On July the 12th a report came to Captain Stephens that
Indians inhabited the country, and the captain deployed Lieutenant
Wilson along with six men to take a scout into the vicinity which
Indians reportedly occupied and complete an investigation. Walter
Robinson, a member of Capt. Rufe Perrys company, was one
of the members of this scouting party. The detail proceeded about
six miles and came upon a large Indian trail which denoted a raiding
band of Indians of unusually large force, and a runner was sent
back to camp by the lieutenant to inform Major Jones and Captain
Stephens of these facts, and advising a force to be sent out of
all the men that could be spared from camp to take up the trail
of the Indians and give them battle in case they could be overtaken.
In the meantime, while the messenger was speeding on his mission,
Lieutenant Wilson and the other five men followed slowly on the
trail, and in about twelve miles Major Jones and Captain Stephens
along with thirty men, overtook them, making the ranger force
now about thirty-five in sum.

The combined force now kept on the trail rapidly
until twenty minutes before 12 oclock a.m., whence they
came upon the Indians in a timbered but rough and rocky country
of the Lost Creek Valley. The Comanches and Kiowas placed their
force in ambush to evade the rangers whom they discovered on their
trail. Before doing this, however, the wily chief divided his
force into three bands and crossed and recrossed Lost Creek several
times on purpose to disconcert and bother the rangers and cause
them to scatter their force in pursuit. Finally he consolidated
his whole force in a mott of timber on the west side of the creek.
Before locating the Indians Major Jones divided his force into
three squads to follow as many different trails, but cautioned
each party to remain in touch with each other and be ready at
any moment to reunite in case of an emergency. The major with
thirteen men went to the right and skirted around the foot of
some hills and came in close range of the timber which concealed
the whole Indian force. The natives fired on them, which was the
first intimation he had of their presence. This volley wounded
some horses, and on its heels came the charge. The Indians left
cover and attacked Major Jones with great fury in the open prairie,
but he stood his ground and the gallant squad around him opened
up a hot fire from the their Winchesters into the very faces of
the yelling and advancing natives. The other two parties of the
ranger force rushed to the scene of the fierce fight, and the
main battle opened with terrific fury on both sides. The yelling
of the Indians almost drowned the noise of the carbines, which
popped and cracked like a canebrake afire. A few moments later,
a bullet wounded Lee Corn and killed his horse. The rangers made
a sweeping charge through the Indians, who were thickly massed.
Their rapid and fatal fire both with revolvers and Winchesters
forced the Comanches and Kiowas to give way. The Indians started
to rapidly flee through the open ground towards the hills, followed
by the now yelling rangers. The warriors passed about a mile of
skirted timber, in which a ravine made by washings from the hills,
made travel difficult. However the Indians crossed this and kept
traveling through an open glade for a hundred yards or more, and
then made a stand on the side of the hill amid rocks and bushes.
They opened fire on the rangers from cover, which checked them,
and they wheeled back to the ravine and there dismounted. During
this fire from the Indians the horse ridden by Walter Robinson
was killed, being hit by five bullets, and he went back to the
ditch on foot. A gallant young ranger of Stephens company
named Glass was killed, falling in front before the turn back
was made. The natives also injured a ranger named Moore. The ravine
or ditch was shallow, and while the rangers to some extent could
protect themselves by lying down, it was not sufficient to cover
the horses, and they were hit repeatedly. The Indians swarmed
the sides of the hills yelling and shooting, and some of them
gradually worked around the rangers and shot at them from various
other points. This gallant little band, however, worthy of the
name of Texas Rangers, were not dismayed, but would raise their
heads above the ravine, take aim at some particular target, fire,
and down again to adjust another charge, at the same time shouting
defiance to their dusky foes. In about twenty minutes after the
ravine was reached Zack Waddell noticed that ranger Glass, whom
they thought dead, was kicking about on the ground, and expressed
his intention of making a run and bringing him into the ravine.
Even the officers tried to dissuade the man because the act seemed
tantamount to suicide. But Waddell had his eye on his friend,
and all at once leaped out of the ditch and ran rapidly to him,
gathered him up in his arms, and started back amid a perfect shower
of bullets and demoniac yells of the Indians, and the rangers
in the ditch sprang to their feet, regardless of exposure, returned
yell for yell and shot for shot with the Indians, and loudly cheered
their gallant comrade, who came staggering in with wounds and
his burden. He was hit with five bullets, but none inflicted serious
wounds, and one of his boots was nearly shot off of his foot,
so much so that he could hardly keep it on. Poor Glass never spoke,
but lay there and breathed awhile, and then died there in the
ravine with his comrades around him, with the noise of cracking
carbines, whistling bullets, and savage yells in his dying ears.

Hunting Horse describes the fight from the
point of view of the Kiowas: When we made our first charge
the white men stopped and began firing at us. The bullets went
Chu! Chu! Soon the enemy charged at us. We rode south in great
haste. Red Otters horse was hit, and sat down suddenly and
began to scream in pain. Red Otter slid off neatly, and with his
red cape streaming from his hand commenced dodging around to escape
the bullets. I thought the whites had him, but Set-kop-te (Paual
Saitkopte) galloped up to him, reached down a hand, and pulled
him up behind. They got away safely.

We all rode south through the valley. I was
on an old grey plug, which lagged far behind. I thought they would
catch me sure. One white man, riding a fine big black horse, was
following us close, making it hot for us. He was way out by himself.
Maybe he didn't know his friends were so far behind. Or maybe
his horse was running away. Presently we reached the shelter of
the wooded ridge, where we stopped and commenced firing back at
the enemy. Tsen-au-sain dismounted, took a careful aim at the
man on the black horse, and shot him off. The man went limping
into the brush to the east.

We could see the leader of the whites motioning
his men to fall back. One of them was slow. Tsen-au-sain shot
him down. I got one, shouted Tsen-au-sain, Everybody
back now!

But nobody was able to touch the fallen enemy
to make coup. We had to make coup or the revenge would not be
complete. We could see the man lying there in plain sight. The
heads of the other rangers could be seen sticking up from a dry
stream bed. Nobody dared go close enough to make coup.

Red Otter got desperate. He called for volunteers.
Not a warrior spoke up. I remembered the prophecy of the medicine
man. It was my chance. I said I would go with Red Otter. Red Otter
ran forward and took position behind a large tree. He signaled
for me to join him. I ran forward and crouched behind the tree.
The bullets were throwing the bark in our faces. Then we ran to
another tree. But the bullets came thicker. Red Otter said it
was too dangerous. We ran back behind the hill.

The trench where the rangers were hidden was
so far away that I couldnt reach it with arrows. Only the
men who had guns stayed out in front and kept firing at the enemy.
They could see the rangers horses tied in the mesquite.
They killed most of these.

Robinson continues:

Only short intermissions interrupted the battle
for nearly five hours. The Indians were well armed, and the balls
were almost constantly kicking up the dust around the margin of
the ravine or hitting rocks and sending showers of scattered lead
among the rangers. Some of the Indians went around the head of
the ravine, surrounding the rangers and cutting off Lee Corn and
Wheeler along with two others who stayed with Corn when natives
wounded him and killed his horse. Retreat into the rank grass,
bushes, mud and water of the creekbed became inevitable. The rangers
fighting the battle in the dry ravine suffered greatly for water,
remaining five hours with the hot July sun beaming down on them.
Their tongues swelled, and their thirst drove them to dig beds
in the ravine their Bowie knives to gather moist dirt which they
sucked between their parched lips. During all of this time Major
Jones exposed himself greatly and made several narrow escapes.
Once he left the ravine and went to a tree and was watching the
chief Lone Wolf to see if he could tell from his actions what
his intentions were or what his next move would be. Captain Stephens
also encouraged the boys by word and example to spare their arms.
While Major Jones was watching Lone Wolf he sat down and leaned
against the tree, with the balls occasionally skipping around
him, and Walter Robinson and Flint Damon said, Look out,
major, they will hit you directly, and about this time a
hissing ball came and struck the tree near the majors head,
filling his eyes and face full of bark and splinters, and with
such force that he fell backwards on the ground as if killed,
but quickly recovered himself.

Hunting Horse continues:

As the day grew shorter it looked as though
we were not going to be able to get any of the whites. Finally
Maman-ti made a new plan. Weve got to cheat those
fellows, he said. We know they will have to go for
water soon. So we will pretend to go away, but will leave some
men, with the fastest horses, near the water hole. They can charge
the whites when they come for water.

So we rode slowly north, keeping out of sight
behind the ridge, until we crossed the dry creek bed above the
water hole. A big bunch remained here, hidden in the timber to
watch for the enemy. The rest rode toward the hills which lie
north of the creek. Some of us felt thirsty. Tahbone-mah and Quo-to-tai
started back to get a drink. I was just going to join them, when
somebody called, Come back quick! Two of them are going
for water now! Tahbone-mah and Quo-to-tai hid in the trees along
the stream.

Robinson continues:

About one hour by sun some of the rangers expressed
a determination to leave the ravine in spite of the Indians and
go to Lost Creek after water, but all were persuaded out of this
notion except two, Bailey and Porter, and they mounted their horses
and rode off. Two hundred yards from the ravine the Indians ran
upon them and killed Bailey in plain view of his companions. His
mare, though fleet, failed to run when the Indians drew near and
reared and plunged until they shot and lanced her unfortunate
rider from her back. Porter had better luck, but narrowly escaped
with his life. The Indians drove him into the creek, with the
cry of one Indian behind him saying, Me git you! Me git
you! in broken English as he went over the edge of the creekbed.
The place Porter went over was close to the spot where Lee Corn
was hiding; Porter, thinking an Indian was hunting him, shot at
him as he hit the mud and water a few yards away, but fortunately
missed due to an arm injury. In throwing the cartridge from the
magazine into the barrel held the gun between his knees. When
night came the rangers back at the ravine were in a terrible strait,
and a council was held to determine what was best to do. They
were nearly exhausted with thirst and strain and shock of the
battle, ammunition nearly all gone, dead and wounded comrades
scattered here, and fourteen dead horses besides the wounded lying
around in the ditch. The Indians had drawn off and Major Jones
asked the boys what they would rather do-remain there until daylight
and renew the battle again if the Indians did not leave, or until
soldiers could come from Jacksboro to their relief, for a ranger
named John P. Holmes had ridden out of the ravine on a wounded
horse in sight of the Indians before night, and gone to the fort
where United States soldiers were quartered to ask for assistance.
After canvassing the situation thoroughly, the rangers concluded
to leave the ravine and make an attempt to get to Jacksboro or
meet the soldiers. The dead ranger, Glass, was strapped to an
Indian horse whose rider had been killed, and he dashed down among
the rangers and stayed there. When all was ready they silently
departed down the ravine, more than half of them on foot, and
succeeded in quenching their thirst at a small spring and then
kept on fifteen miles to a ranch, there remaining until the following
morning at which time they buried their dead comrade. Walter Robinson
performed this sad rite , and the others prepared to return to
the battleground with a ranch wagon to bring in the wounded. They
were accompanied by a band of rangers and a squad of soldiers
who arrived at the ranch before daylight. Gallant Holmes informed
them of the treacherous situation. Uneasiness was felt for the
boys who had been left scattered in the Lost Creek bottoms, and
a hurried return was made to the place by the rangers and soldiers,
but on arriving there they found none of their comrades. The men
discovered that their peers escaped to Lovings ranch. Baileys
body lie near where the fight commenced, badly mutilated, scalped,
and full of arrows, besides numerous lance wounds. They buried
him near the spot where he met his fate, and since the country
has settled up in that locality, a schoolhouse and church stand
near his grave, or near the spot where he was killed. It was afterwards
learned that forty-two Indians were bullet-stricken during the
battle, nineteen of them dying on the field.

Hunting Horse continues:

"In a few moments two white men came riding
swiftly to the water hole. One was about fifty yards ahead of
the other. The first one, who was carrying several canteens, rode
down into the creek, out of our sight. The other remained up on
the bank to watch. Soon the Kiowas who had been ordered to charge
them rushing in from the west. The Texan on the bank rode south.
The man in the creek came out on the north side and started galloping
in the opposite direction, with Tahbone-mah and Quo-to-tai after
him.

At first Quo-to-tai was in the lead, but in
a moment Tahbone-mah, who was riding a big grey-a famous racer-passed
him. The white man turned in his saddle and kept shooting at the
two Indians. He fired the last shot almost in Tahbone-mahs
face, then threw his empty pistol at Tahbone-mah. The Kiowa man
dumped his enemy off with a lance, and herded the riderless horse
off on a circle to the left. It was a fine bay, and he later gave
it to me. Tahbone-mah couldnt go back to make coup on the
man he had knocked down, because there was heavy firing coming
out of the woods along the stream.

When I got to the place where they had killed
the other ranger, I learned that Dohauson had thrust him off his
horse with a spear, but that Mamaday-te had made fist coup by
touching him with his hand. Lone Wolf and Maman-ti and everybody
was there. Lone Wolf got off his horse and chopped the mans
head to pieces with his brass hatchet-pipe. Then he took out his
butcher knife and cut open the man's bowels. Everyone who wanted
to shot arrows into it or poked at it with their lances.

Presently Lone Wolf stood back to make a speech.
He said, Thank you, Oh thank you, for what has been done
today. My poor son has been paid back. His spirit is satisfied.
Now listen! It was Mamaday-te who made the first coup. Because
of this, and because he loved my son, I am going to honor him
today. I am going to give him my name. Everybody listen! Let the
name of Mamaday-te stay here on this battleground. Let the name
of Mamaday-te be forgotten. From now on call him Lone Wolf!

"After Lone Wolf had finished his talk, we
all sang a few verses of the Victory Song, then got on our horses
and started home.

Robinson continues:

Mel Porter, after he had jumped or been thrown (by
Tahbone-mah) from his horse near the water hole, dived into the
creek and swam under water. When he came up he was nearly shot
by Lee Corn and Wheeler, who thought he was an Indian. It was
the fire of these two men which had caused Tahbone-mah and Quo-to-tai
to sheer off at the last moment. The three rangers stayed in the
brush until after dark, when they made their way to Lovings
Ranch. The next day Major Joness men came back to look for
Baileys body. The young Texans caught their breath when
they saw the condition it was in. They scooped out a shallow trench
in the sand.

William Glass was buried at Lovings Ranch.

The Tenth Cavalry Buffalo Soldiers, under Lieutenant
Baldwin, rode out to join Jones and his Rangers in an unsuccessful
pursuit of the raiders after word returned to Fort Richardson
of the Lost Valley Fight.

Robinson continues:

The rangers went back to Jacksboro, bought horses
to replace those killed, and then went on into the Llano country.

It is related of Lee Corn that when his horse was
killed and himself down beside him with his left arm shattered,
he still continued to work the lever of his gun, holding the barrel
between his knees to load, and firing with one hand at the Indians
who were swarming around them and yelling most fearfully, and
during this time Major Jones passed him and the young ranger looked
up and says, Were givin em hell, major.
Mr. Walter Robinson, who was one of the escort of Major Jones,
and who took a prominent part in this fearful battle, belonged
to Capt. Rufe Perrys company, and was in the Salt Creek
fight in Menard County, and several others.